


The Ecological Fallacy

by sprx77



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Ace person accidentally summons an incubus, F/M, First Meetings, Incubus (and wizard)! Rumplestiltskin, Technnically, Wizard!Belle, Young wizards au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9307319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: An asexual Belle accidentally summons an Incubus!Rumplestiltskin. It's a fortuitous first meeting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chey15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chey15/gifts).



After much screaming, confusion, a fair bit of yelling and several objects being thrown, Belle sat red-faced on her sofa.

She fixed tea with sure motions and _she_ at least would traverse this with proper decorum and the dignity behooving a wizard of her station.

Across from her, wrapped with an air of confusion and amusement in the couch’s afghan and _nothing else_ , the long-haired otherbeing she’d somehow summoned raised an eyebrow.

Belle cleared her throat.

“Obviously,” She said, and sounded a bit choked even to her own ears-- she was going to _kill_ Ruby-- “There has been a mistake on my part. I regret the inconvenience it has caused you.”

Without more knowledge of the botched ritual or the nature of the one it had transferred into her living room, she was careful to avoid outright apologizing.

A small grin curled their lips behind raised teacup; the being’s movements caused the knit-fabric to slide over lightly scaled collarbones and Belle frowned. Probably Mary Margaret hadn’t intended the gift to be used in this fashion, but then again she wouldn’t have wanted any being to feel a chill.

Belle sipped her own tea, feeling awkward in her own house. In her own skin, really. And that was the crux of the problem-- the problem with the situation, at least, not with her.

The problem with _her_ is her choice of friends and their choice of practical jokes.

Addressing unfamiliar beings is terrible. Certainly not something she planned to do today. Between them, an old book sits open, innocently next to her nicest tea set.

“Understandable,” Says the being, voice curling like smoke in the dark. Their eyes are like golden starbursts on a velvet background. Like sparkling topaz on display at a jewelry store-- or in the carefully maintained cases in the Natural Science and History Museum, room darkened to show them off.

One day Belle might get tired of being a wizard and seeing incredibly unlikely things and beings, places and far-away earths circling far-away stars, but today is not that day.

She got the sense that she was being humored, but not insultingly.

“It is my preference that you be released back to your duties as soon as possible. It probably won’t take me long to reverse the ritual that brought you here, especially if I have time to consult with the individual who let me borrow the text.”

Brown eyebrows drew together with a touch of puzzlement.

They smoothed out again after a moment.

“If that is your desire,” They said, voice honeyed. The Scottish lilt was slight, barely noticeable. Part of her brain would be occupied with working out how another dimension developed the same linguistic cadence independently. Perhaps there was some correlation?

It was terrible of her, she knew, but the same part was conspiring to ask as many questions as possible if it turned out to be necessary to key a gate spell to get them back to their own-- hell dimension, probably, going by the back-curling horns jutting from their rather scraggly brown tresses.

Black wings folded gracefully within the confines of the knit-throw. It was an ugly green that managed to look right at home in her living room. Mary Margaret had an eye for such things that frankly didn’t exist in Belle. Bookcases and casting space, that’s what she’d planned for the first time she stepped foot in the home.

How many walls and how many shelves? Interior decorating was not among her many talents.

The being looked for all intents and purposes male, but the notion that one society’s gender persisted across time and space and a hundred hundred million different cultures and sentiences and non-carbon life forms was ludicrous.

She grimaced.

“Could I get you any food while I work? Offered freely. That is, if you eat terrestrial food. Or eat at all.” At the being’s expression, she frowned and tacked on, “No intent is intended. It is considered hospitable in this Realm to offer sustenance to guests.”

“I am quite familiar with modern Earth customs, dearie, rare as it is that they apply to me.” They said, hand setting down the tea cup.

“You’ve been to Earth before?” She inquired. “I hadn’t wanted to assume.”

“I do most of my business on Earth,” They corrected. “Although not all of it, and certainly not always this dimension.”

“Do you have any preferred pronouns?”

Surprise again, this time bolder.

“It’s not evident?” Genuine curiosity.

“I hadn’t wanted to assume.” She repeated.

“That is to say, the appearance I project when summoned by that ritual is influenced by what the castor prefers.” They corrected, confusion evident.

“I have no preference.” She informed, expecting the confusion to fade from their expression. It didn’t.

“ _Everyone_ has a preference.” They responded, sounding quite sure.

She frowned.

“On Earth, it’s possible to prefer several genders at once, or none at all, I suppose--” It would be awkward to explain basic human sexuality to an otherworldly being, but better than letting them make an ass of themselves.

Unexpectedly, the being threw back their head and _laughed_.

It was, to say the least, startling. When they stopped, she waited.

“ _I_ know that, dearie. Just as I know _everyone_ has some ideal form for their lover to take. It is a matter of biology, after all.” They must have seen something in her expression, because they continued. “My biology, that is. It is my business to _know_ such things. And ‘he’ will do, I think.”

 _He_ gestured to the book on the table to iterate his earlier point and Belle nearly choked on her own tongue strangling the habitual 'thank you' that threatens to leave her lips.

Certain obvious facts come crashing together in their significance. It is an inconvenient time for her brain to start a complete system reboot-- it often is, stupidly, because impossible situations are what _cause_ such a blue screen restart.

The being sighed, standing in one smooth motion. The afghan fell from his strong shoulders onto the floor.

“Enough messing about.” A raised eyebrow, a sultry voice. “How do you want to do this, dearie?”

 _Do what?_ Is her immediate would be response, followed immediately by a strong _PREFERABLY NEVER,_ but Belle is still tripping over her own tongue and fails to formulate a verbal reply.

There. When. Genitals. Not horrifying on their own, obviously, but in _context_ objectively the worst thing ever-- he stepped forward, or moved to do so, and the higher motor functions returned with a vengeance.

The higher reasoning skills hadn’t, apparently, because windmill arms and choked sounds didn’t convey thought elegantly. Or comprehensively. Or at all, really.

 _“I am one who does not experience--”_ She says it in The Speech and uses a word that English has no equal to-- the best equivalence would be ‘inherent draw to other humans based on an appetite for pleasures of the flesh.’ Except in English, literally and without context, 'pleasures of the flesh' would imply a all physical enjoyment-- food and comfort, hot baths and hugs.

The Speech has no such limitations. It is the language of truth and magic upon which the universe was built, and had a word for all things and all situations, to such an extent that to describe something was for it to exist-- or at least, for something to exist, it had to have a description in The Speech.

The Speech transcended language and allowed all beings to communicate with each other-- animals to people, beings to beings, machines to trees and all that could be and perceive.

It was also impossible to lie in, so her use of it, regardless of hurry, caught his attention.

In fact, not only did The Speech have a word for the concept of not holding any sense of sexual attraction, it also had a word for one who experienced such a concept-- something that frustratingly required hours of conversation to bend someone’s head around in English was shortened down to two words in The Speech, undeniable and correct.

There was no question of sureness or confusion if a being proclaimed something in The Speech. It was simply true. It simply was.

 _“I am one whose species is capable of passively obtaining and maintaining the ideal form of a mate of a given species, based on the specific characteristics they are sexually attracted to, who receives knowledge to bring fulfillment to that individual, and who receives energy and sustenance by doing so without harming the individual in question._ ” He said.

She nodded.

It took three words in The Speech and the knowledge slid into place in her brain as if it had always made a home there.

He smirked at her, offering to share in the absurdity of this predicament.

“ _Dai stihó_ ” He said, wry.

A complicated mix of emotions danced over his face then, settling on something Belle couldn’t name.

“You see me truly?” He said, sounding a bit distressed.

It was then that she realized the horned, winged, lightly-scaled being in her living room had assumed he’d physically assumed her most desired-- ostensibly human-- partner for sexual congress. Which honestly raised the interesting question of if he physically transformed or noticed the transition to the ideal sex god(dess) or if it was an illusion, although how _that_ would work in terms of slots and tabs she didn’t actually _want_ to know, and--

“I don’t think I’ve ever been truly seen on this mortal plane,” He admitted in explanation. “It is literally always a fantasy.”

“I take it that wizards aren’t who usually call,” She said, just as wryly. If it were indeed a summoning the less-True magically inclined were meant to perform to summon a bed partner, and a temporary one at that.

“Indeed.” Said the demon, adopting a rather grumpy expression and allowing himself to fall back onto the recliner he’d risen from.

Belle hid a smile behind a tea cup.

He looked disgruntled in a very cat-like fashion.

“Now, about that reverse transport spell...” She started, drawing her manual open over her lap and pulling the older book close for reference.

“Traditionally I achieve my release by, well--” He looked a tad awkward.

“Your release?” She finished, laughing. “I am a mature, adult being. I _can_ talk about it.”

“I hadn’t wanted to assume,” He parrots, and bends his head to study the texts as well.

With two such minds bent to figuring out the problem, she was sure it could be solved in no time at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is on errantry and finds herself greeting Rumplestiltskin.
> 
> Edit 1/23/17: minor typos.

The next time they meet, she doesn’t know it’s happening. Belle is merely in her living room, surrounded by a nest of open books and looseleaf notes, three hours deep into a particularly tricky bit of math for a certain spell, when her finger slips.

She was trying to flip back to a previous chapter in her manual, but a chance twitch ends in flipping almost twice as many pages, straight to the section with her name staring out at her.

Below it, she discovers that her plans for the evening have just been changed to suit the plans of the universe. Someone else might be upset, or annoyed; Belle has too much heart. The Powers that Be have a problem in the universe that only she can solve-- or for which she is the best or closest Wizard for the job, at least.

Research forgotten, or at least put on the back burner, she drops her manual on the table to prepare. It will be going with her, of course-- no Wizard ever leaves on a quest without their Manual-- but for now it waits for its Wizard, open and with the words Status: Active facing her ceiling.

She is just pulling on her running shoes, which any good Wizard learns to have ready and available nearby (with a pair of socks if they can), when the screaming starts.

Normally, a high pitched scream in a neighborhood like this means someone is startled, or a child is screeching at a sibling, but Belle might honestly go check just in case. Today, the Powers that govern and protect the universe looked at the registrar of hundreds of thousands of thousands of wizards and put her on errantry because she was closest or best for the job.

She is Manual in arm and out the door before the screaming stops.

Pro to her, the screaming doesn’t just cut off. One shriek is followed by another and more still, for all the time it takes for her to get across her street and to the neighbor’s house where the sound and crashes are coming from.

She Speaks to the door-- _your person is in danger, I am a wizard on errantry and you will_ open _for me_ \-- so sure in herself that she is able to believe and say it.

Flying through the doorway and into the sitting room gives her a scene that draws her up short. She gets an arm full of Emma Swan, distressed and breathing hard.

“This strange woman looks like her and acts like her but _isn’t_ her and--”

In the center of the room stands the incubus from several weeks before, hand pinching the bridge of his nose and covering his eyes.

_A spell for minor illusion!_ She commands her Manual and if other Wizards can’t do that telepathically-- well, it’s not her fault any book within her possession gains sentience.

It speaks the words she needs and she has to fix the spell on ‘the only non-human wizard in the room’ which is quick and dirty, but without his Name all she can do.

She whispers it fast under her breath, Emma too distraught to notice and then, louder,

“Oh, honey, were you asleep? She looks a little like Regina but not _really_ ,” And Belle gives a meaningful look at the demon over Emma’s shoulder.

Emma turns, stunned, to see a dark-haired beauty that is resolutely _not_ at all a carbon copy of Regina, but close enough to confuse the just-woken or half asleep.

“I-- I.” Emma visibly reigns herself in, though still upset. “I don’t. What are you doing in my house?!”

The demon opens his mouth to respond. Belle cuts him off before he can speak.

“I rang her up and invited her over for tea. This is Amelia from book club. She must have gotten the address wrong, right, Amelia?”

The incubus plays along with a grace and natural acting ability that is quite frankly impressive. His features contort with concern.

“My goodness, dear, what were you thinking leaving your door unlocked like that? I could have been anyone!” He says.

“I heard the screaming and came running, thinking someone was getting murdered and worried out of my head,” Belle continues, lightly chastising her. “The door was wide open. Amelia must have thought it was my door left unlocked, since I was expecting her”

“I’m sorry for the scare, dearheart, but before I could explain you just woke up and started screeching at me!” He works up some dismay.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma says immediately, stepping into the shoes of proper response instilled on her by living on Earth her entire life. “I don’t know how this happened-- I feel so silly now.”

She even looks embarrassed, despite the fact that her eyes are still a little wide. If it was anybody but Belle, a familiar acquaintance, and the sensible explanation where before there was none...

The Powers know what they’re about.

“We’ll just get out of your hair,” The incubus says gently. “Try to get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

Emma nodded, still looking quite confused but willing to believe the lie-- and Wizards weren’t supposed to lie; the deception had Belle flushed, but Earth was Sevarfrith and she bit her cheek and dealt with the discomfort.

Acting on autopilot, the blonde escorted both Wizards to the door. They made their way casually across the street, crossed the threshold to Belle’s home, and as soon as the door shut behind them Belle let the spell drop with a sigh.

The incubus was looking at her rather intently.

“Do you often get summoned by accident?” Belle couldn’t help but inquire.

His mouth twisted.

“ _No,_ I do not. That woman had a complete summoning set up in her sitting room. I have no idea if it’s coincidence or what. All I know is she lit the candles that were placed _just_ so around the room and there I was.”

He looked so offended that she had to stifle a laugh.

“How did _you_ know to come?” He threw back.

This time she let the grin stretch her lips wide.

“Besides the screams? _Dai stihó,_ cousin. I am on errantry, and I greet you.”

The demon looked poleaxed.

“The _Powers_ intervened for a botched summoning? That just happened to be right across the street from your home?”

Belle eyed him.

“There are no such thing as coincidences,” She reminded him. It was the Wizard creed. The Powers That Be made everything happen for a reason.

He scowled.

“I am in desperate need of tea,” He grumbled.

She looked him up and down. As the glamour had sloughed off him, it left him wearing only olive-scaled skin and dark wings. His horns curved graceful and a deep brown to the back of his head.

His hair was rather nicer than when she’d last seen it, washed and combed and just touched with grey at the tips.

As he walked past her to the kitchen uninvited, she was greeted to the sight of his pert butt and his thin tail curled around his waist, little tuft at the end tucked into its beginning like a belt.

“Feel free to make some,” She called after him, taking a left instead of a right down the hallway and returning to her living room.

Her books immediately bombarded her with questions. The ones left out on the table whined; the ones on the shelves jumped straight into questions about her next project and whether they’d be used; obscure ones demanded to know if anything relevant to their contents had been discovered.

“Quiet, all of you!” She instructed, sounding and feeling like a middle school teacher. All but the more recalcitrant tomes hushed, and even those gave a brief bit of grumbling before subsiding.

She’s halfway through the explanation when he steps into the room looking-- she didn’t know. His eyes were focused on the ceiling. He didn’t speak.

He was still completely naked and looked as comfortable in bare skin as she was in her favorite, most softest sweater.

“I have no idea how to make the tea.” He said to the ceiling, resolutely not looking her way. “I thought it would be simple but it wasn’t. Your teaset tried to tell me and I still have no idea.”

“You don’t know how to make tea?” She asked.

He glared at the ceiling.

His mouth did a complicated thing.

“The first time I had it was when you accidentally summoned me. No one in my dimension has ever heard of it, much less the ritual you use to create it. I would _greatly_ appreciate it if you made me some.”

“That sounded painful.” She said, trying to keep the amusement from her voice. His plight was truly terrible.

“It was, thank you.” He said to the ceiling.

“Well, since you said ‘please’ and all.” She said, making her way past him and watching the relief with which he sat down in the spot she’d vacated.

Her books could take care of themselves, and he was a wizard besides, so she got the kitchen to make her tea with the same ease as normal. And, on a whim, drew out a well-practiced array on her refrigerator’s white board.

There was an extremely high end bakery on the other side of the next galaxy over that gave her the most sinfully delicious fresh rolls she’d ever tried. They came with a cinnamon(like) butter dip and she splurged on them every time she could justify it.

Not, she reflected as the water heated, that they _cost_ her much. She exchanged three _mini_ chocolate bars through the tiny portal and received a large basket of the bread in exchange. The little blue hand took the bite sized bars with reverence.

She waved her free hand to close the miniature gate-- a portal-- and basked in the smell of fresh bread that suffused through her kitchen.

Was there anything better through the multiverse than warm bread? Yes, but they weren’t in her kitchen, and Belle set the basket on the counter.

The kettle obligingly whistled, letting her arrange everything perfectly. Her tea set was old and well-used, but perfectly functional, and it was nice enough to still look good even after all the years she’d used it. She grabbed a few sugar cubes, a small pitcher of milk, and arranged two cups around a plate of rolls and the steaming pot.

With a satisfied smile, she picked up the whole thing for easy transport to the living room. She stepped deftly into the living room and the books obligingly made a space for her on the table.

“Don’t lose your pages,” She rebuked them, and they grumbled back. She’d have to get back to research eventually, and any page out of place would set her back by minutes. She might even get distracted by new information and ideas while flipping back to where she was _supposed_ to be, and a new tangent like that would lead to three hours having passed, eight pages of notes being made in her Manual, and the original question she’d set out to answer being nearly forgotten.

“You speak to books?” He asked politely, waiting for her to pour the tea before speaking.

“Yes, they’re my specialty. When my Manual first came to me, I noticed books speaking first. I can speak to most household objects as well,” She tacked on. “Not appliances so much as knick-knacks. Things people handle often.”

Things that are well-loved enough to gain a measure of sentience, she didn’t say. It felt slightly too personal to announce to even another Wizard.

“Ah.” Said the incubus. “Treasure speaks to me. Gold, mostly. But other valuable things as well.”

“Really?” She said, curious now. “What if it’s valuable to one person, but not to the world at large. Does that count?”

“Sometimes. Only things like precious metals are guaranteed. The rest is never sure, though I get better results with rare things, coveted things. Artifacts and the like.”

“That’s fascinating.” She told him honestly. “I thought I had it nice to have books speak to me. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, of course.”

Sometimes, when she asked very, very nicely, her books let her read them out loud in The Speech. When that happened, she read things out of the books and into reality. Some of her favorite objects had come out of books-- her tea set, for one.

Her microwave was really a replicator, for another. When she was younger, she’d wondered how some adult Wizards didn’t have adult jobs, how they ate and paid the bills. Now she knew that with access to the universe at large, there were endless ways.

And like minded cousins across the realms to help, of course.

She watched as he sipped his tea with half-lidded eyes. His tail flicked lightly: once, twice, again. He was like a cat.

“Here,” She said, after it looked like he’d returned to this plane of existence. “Try a bread roll.”

Yes, it was possibly a tad bit evil of her.

He looked at it dubiously. She gestured, insistent.

“All right,” He said, honeyed voice lilting and purring a bit on the ‘r’. Starburst-dark eyes regarded her under thick lashes before he picked it up suspiciously.

Delicately, he took a bite.

Paused.

Chewed, expression spasming.

His eyes widened, carefully controlled features slackening in shock.

“I know, right?” She laughed, positively smug. They were the best in two galaxies, and she’d tried many amazing places before finding them.

“What are these called?” He demanded, barely restraining himself from tearing off another bite. He regarded the roll in his hand like one might a deadly snake, poised to strike.

“They’re fresh-made bread rolls from a famous spot in--” He held up a hand to cut her off. She stopped, bemused.

“ _Bread_ ,” He repeated, as if trying out the word. “Humans eat this often?”

Wait.

“You’ve never tried bread before?”

“Dearie, I’ve never tried human food at _all_. The tea was a pleasant surprise. This is simply... _decadent_.”

“What do you--” _Eat_ , she nearly asked, but forcibly shut her mouth before she could embarrass herself. He’d told her in the Speech that he was an incubus. She knew what he ate-- sexual pleasure, lust and the emotions tied up with orgasms.

“Exactly.” He said dismissively, studying the bread roll like it held all the secrets to the universe. He turned it back in forth in the light.

“Just eat it,” She found herself saying. “It’s better while it’s warm.”

Seemingly only needing the barest bit of encouragement, he complied.

Belle had one herself, just to see if she could enjoy it as much as he did, and found it just as good as the first time she’d tried it. She, however, dipped it in the cinnamon butter and the flavor of it exploded on her tongue, delicious beyond reason.

The incubus actually stopped to look at her.

“Fascinating.” He said, and after a moment pulled a piece off his own second roll to dip.

“If you like,” She said, five minutes later as they both had more tea and finished the rolls, “We can make this a regular thing.”

“This?” He asked, gesturing to the room at large.

“Tea and snacks.” She corrected, feeling as bold as she usually did when dealing with Wizardly affairs. “I’m willing to bet there are other foods you’d like, if only you tried them.”

He was looking at her now with faint surprise. Then, he snorted a little.

“You have no idea how strange it is to spend time with a human without fulfilling a fantasy or ten for them.” He admitted, amusement coloring every word.

“I don’t have much in the way of friends,” She continued, “And those who are my friends and know about Wizardry prefer coffee.”

“Stop, lovely.” He said, letting a small grin curve gently over his lips. “You had me at ‘tea’.”

“There are no coincidences,” She reminded him, matching the smile. “If we didn’t meet up again on our own, the Powers might contrive to make it happen.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He said, wryly, and she had to laugh at the memory of both herself and Emma Swan assaulting him with throw pillows from their couches.

He scowled at her laughter.

“Anyway, tell me what you were working on? This is quite a lot of open books...”

She was happy to oblige him, and they talked for quite a while until he looked up, quite suddenly, and regretfully informed her that he was being summoned away.

They parted amicably with the promise to meet again.

It was only afterward, as Belle cleared away the tea tray, that she realized she’d forgotten to ask for his name.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to harass me at definitelynotaminion.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> 1/15/17 edit: typo, and realized I fudged the definition of ace if it was truly described in the Speech, which is appalling because I'm a-spec myself


End file.
